"You're an Ice mage," she said, her voice challenging. "You know that Ice is the ultimate Stillness—the lack of all movement. If you want to read that letter, you have to learn how to command that Stillness to end. Unfreeze it yourself."
...
"How?" Lucian asked, his voice barely a whisper in the frigid air.
The Dragon of White gave him a flat look. "I don't know. You're an Ice mage, aren't you? You should know how to unfreeze an Element of Nature."
Lucian frowned. "Element of Nature? What's the difference? Isn't it just Elemental Magic?"
"Hardly," she retorted. "Elemental Magic is merely the representation of a power. The Element of Nature is the source itself. Magic is what you cast; Nature is what is. The ice holding that letter wasn't created by a spell—it was commanded by the world. To undo it, you must stop acting like a mage and start acting like a piece of the world."
"So, I have to use the Authority," Lucian murmured.
"Correct! Without Coldness, how would Nature create Ice? It is the foundation of all frost." She leaned closer. "You've been using it already. When you manipulate mana to shape your spells, what do you feel?"
Lucian thought back to the bite of his own power. "I feel a deep shiver running through my veins. It feels like it comes from the spell I cast outside."
The Dragon shook her head. "Not exactly. That shiver is not from your spell. It comes from the Coldness of Nature itself, flowing into you without you noticing. Your magic only channels a small portion of it. To truly control Ice, you must learn to feel and command the entire Authority—the raw Coldness that exists before the Ice even forms."
She gestured to the cavern. "Now, feel the Coldness in your surroundings. Use it to unfreeze the letter."
"I don't know how to see it," Lucian admitted.
"Let me guide you. I will allow you to see the particles—the Authority itself. Close your eyes. Silence your breath. Think of what a Coldness particle looks like: a small white dot. Imagine millions of them surrounding you. When the image is complete, open your eyes."
Lucian followed her instructions. He stilled his lungs and focused his mind until he could practically feel the static of the air. He opened his right eye.
The world was unchanged. "I can't see anything. No particles."
The Dragon's scales rattled with irritation. "I said open your eyes, Lucian. Both of them. Why has your left eye been clamped shut this whole time?"
"It's... it's a bit embarrassing," Lucian muttered. "A bear attacked me in the woods years ago. I lost my vision in that eye, so I just kept it closed until it became a habit."
The Dragon's irritation vanished. "Why didn't you tell me? I could have healed that the moment you walked in!"
"You didn't ask," Lucian replied.
The Dragon didn't argue. In a sudden, fluid motion, she wrapped her long body around him, pinning him in place. She brought her head level with his and exhaled a soft, misty breath against his scarred eyelid. The sensation was unexpectedly soothing, like a cool silk cloth draped over a fever.
"Now," she commanded. "Open it!"
Lucian slowly opened his left eye. His breath hitched. "Woah... I can see... I can see everything!"
"Of course you can," the Dragon said. "That eye was created by my power—a gift of Ice Creation borrowed from my Mother. As you master the Authority of Coldness, that eye will grow with you. You can even name it, if you like."
"Names aren't necessary," Lucian said. "But how? I thought you were out of power?"
"I borrowed it from my Mother," she said simply. "It is a common arrangement. Now, enough chatter! Focus. Close your eyes and feel."
Lucian centered himself. This time, when he closed his eyes, he didn't see darkness. He felt a Coldness he could not handle—a bone-deep frost that tried to stop his heart. Outside, his physical body began to glaze over. Ice crystals sprouted from his boots and fingertips, trying to entomb him.
"The Coldness is trying to freeze you!" the Dragon's voice echoed. "Because you discovered its existence, it has noticed you! Do not let it claim you—absorb the particles! Imagine a way to take them in!"
Inside Lucian's mind, everything had turned into a frozen wasteland. Billions of small white particles—the raw Authority of Coldness—swirled in a blizzard, screaming to turn his consciousness into a statue.
Think, he told himself. I need to absorb them. I need something powerful.
He remembered his father—a dark mage. He remembered a spell of absolute shadow that had swallowed a bear in a single heartbeat.
Imagination is a mage's greatest investment, he thought.
He didn't visualize ice. He visualized a Black Hole.
A tiny speck of infinite darkness appeared in the center of the white wasteland. In his mind, the void began to roar. The white particles of Coldness, once overwhelming, were suddenly caught in a violent current, sucked toward the dark center of his mind.
Larger, Lucian commanded. Bigger!
The Black Hole expanded, its gravity tearing through the frozen landscape of his mind. It began to feast on the Coldness, pulling every white dot—every bit of the Authority—into the abyss.
But outside, the Dragon saw only tragedy.
Lucian was gone, replaced by a solid statue of ice. The Coldness particles in the air had gone unnaturally still, as if they had finished their work. She reached out, her palm resting against the frozen shell of the boy.
"I'm sorry, Lucian," she whispered, her voice thick with grief. "I never thought your mind was so weak. I thought... I thought your mother's blood would be enough. I've failed."
She looked toward the ceiling. "I'm sorry, Mother. I've killed him."